Crossfire
by The-Rebel-Spong
Summary: "Hanging upside down, strapped into some sort of grubby, dirty straight jacket, was Larten. His face had clearly seen a beating, cheeks red from being the wrong way round and eyes black from lack of sleep. Slowly, he tried to smile at her, a crooked, embarrassed little smile which looked more like a frown from Arra's angle."


"**And we're caught up in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell,  
And we're searching for shelter,  
And tell the Devil that he can go back from where he came,  
His fiery arrows drew their bead in vain,  
And when the hardest part is over, we'll be here,  
And our dreams will break the boundaries of our fear,  
The boundaries of our fear,**

**Lay your body down, Lay your body down,  
Lay your body down... next to mine."**

Arra cursed herself.

She cursed humanity.

She cursed the vampire council's 'No intervening with Human activity' law.

Most of all, however, she cursed her mate. Or soon to be deceased mate if she didn't get her act together...

Three days ago, she and Larten had been staying in a small village a few hundred miles outside of Prague. Seven years to the day the two had become mated, seven long, hard tolerance draining years. Arra hadn't realized the level of dependency which Larten had on Seba. He couldn't cook without someone watching over his shoulder and making sure he cooked meat right through, he would go weeks without bathing if he could get away with it, he couldn't shave as efficiently as Arra wanted and often missed large patches of stubble.

The man could name you every goddam tree in a forest though as well as identify each insect. Spiders were some weird fetish he seemed to have. Every time they passed one Larten had to stop and play with it. Once or twice he would stick them in his hair and just stare at it before going to sleep in the morning.

She'd woken up alone three nights ago which was at first fantastic. She'd sprawled out in bed like a starfish then wrapped herself up in the entire blanket for the first time in years. After the first few hours of Larten's absence, however, she started to grow a little worried. Larten sometimes liked to be alone and she respected that but even he didn't just disappear without telling her he was off out.

Frowning, she'd gotten out of their bed and made her way across to see if his shoes were gone, which they were. As was his shirt and trousers and braces, though not his knives. That meant he'd nipped out to the village, she assumed.

Dressing and throwing her hair back into a bun for ease, Arra opened the door to the Inn corridor and frowned. Written in some language she'd had to get the Inn owner to translate was a ransom letter;

"_**We have your husband. We will kill him in three days if you fail to bring all your British money to…"**_

That had been a real shocker. Larten wasn't the sort to get himself kidnapped but these humans all had guns now. Gone were the days of the sword and shield….

Of course, Arra hadn't brought any money with her as she stood outside a desolate old factory building. The air was cool, a star lit sky above her allowing slight illumination as she approached with caution. She was worried she had the wrong place, Czechoslovakian was difficult to read, particularly if you weren't local.

All fears about wither she was in the right place or not vanished when she smelt Larten's blood within, the fruity scent causing Arra to lick her lips slightly; as a survival method, a mate could sense the presence of their loved one via a particular scent which was given off by their blood. That scent was one which a mate grew to love and, for Arra, it was the sickly sweet smell of fruit.

She smiled ever so slightly before crouching down and rolling into the shadow of a broken dyke.

She kept her breathing silent as slowly, Arra crept beside the wall, following her nose as she rounded the corner and into a glass littered courtyard. Once more, she dived for cover, pressing herself up tight against the moss plagued wall of the factory.

From here, Arra could hear footsteps echoing; heavy boots trudging around within the factory, laughing and joking in thick foreign accents. With a deep breath, she silently walked against the wall, crawling under a large broken window and biting her lip as shards of glass cut her elbows and hands as well as ripping her trousers.

Once by the door, she made sure she had her knives in hand before kicking the decaying thing hard with her boot. There was an almighty crashing sound as the rusting hinges snapped and the door swung down to the floor.

Two men were stood by the door, each gasping from fright before instantly reaching for two heavy duty riffles lying down upon the door. Before either men had a second to lock aim or fire, Arra flitted forward, slashing the first man's stomach before twisting and walloping the second hard on the head with the butt of her knife.

Each fell to the floor at roughly the same time. The one who's stomach she'd cut groaned on the floor, grabbing the cut and attempting to stem the bleeding. Instinctively, Arra knocked him out with her breath before tightly wrapping her jacket around his waist to act as a tourniquet. She took their riffles and snapped them clean in half with slight force, taking their other weapons before advancing forwards.

That sickly sweet stench of Larten's blood tingled her nostrils as she passed a wooden chair and thick fisherman rope. On closer inspection she could see the rope was stained with blood and reeked of her mate. Cursing, she advanced forwards at a slower, more cautiously speed. Every footstep was followed by a pause. Up ahead, was another large but splintered door which she assumed she would need to kick down also.

Suddenly, gun shots fired from the other side of the door, Arra cursing loudly and dropping to the floor as three more men broke through to attack her. One carried a post WWII machine gun, the antique firing out shells at a rapid speed, the other two behind with pistols and firing in Arra's direction.

Arra was curled up behind an abandoned slate table, waiting for a break in the gunshot fire. She prayed to the Gods, begged them for a second of rest to which she could take advantage of. She had to get her mate, needed to free him. No one else knew he had been kidnapped so truly she was his only chance.

As the shooting stopped and the men listened to hear if Arra was dead, the vampiress grasped her opportunity, spinning up onto her heels and firing two small knives which collided almost perfectly right between their eyes.

The third man looked up at Arra in shock, lifting his pistol and firing frantically in panic. Easily, Arra rolled out of the way, tumbling to the left before lunging and tackling the man to the floor. The pistol went flying as the too wrestled. The human punched her hard in the gut, causing her to lose her breath and her ability to use knock out gas.

Instead, she slammed her forehead against his, hard.

The human moaned as his head fell back with a huff, out cold.

Arra grumbled a little, disorientated. She sat back off the human's chest as lightly caressed the bleeding cut above her eyebrow, frowning before cracking her neck and standing with slight effort. It had been too long since she'd had to fight like she had and even vampires could be out of swing.

Gods, she was getting old, she thought as her legs creaked a little.

Gathering up her knives from the two men she'd killed, she made to go through the bullet shattered door in front of her before she paused. Her stare was one of utter disbelief as she slowly approached the threshold.

Hanging upside down, strapped into some sort of grubby, dirty straight jacket, was Larten. His face had clearly seen a beating, cheeks red from being the wrong way round and eyes black from lack of sleep.

Slowly, he tried to smile at her, a crooked, embarrassed little smile which looked more like a frown from Arra's angle.

She tilted her head slightly at her mate, his frown looking more like a smile now that she was bent over a little.

"What am I going to do with you?" she sighed, shaking her head as she approached him, smirking at his goofy expression as she went to free him.

Dragging her mate out of the building, avoiding the groaning gang on the floor, Arra led him out into the cold evening air. When she noticed him shivering, she placed her jacket over his shoulders and rubbed his back vigorously before hailing a taxi for them both.

As a post-war vehicle pulled up beside them, Arra helped Larten into the back, playing the driver as she climbed in after and wrapped her arm loosely around his shoulders.

"I love you," Larten yawned, his voice raw and croaky, made worse by his swollen cheek.

"I know, Darlin'," Arra said in the most masculine way possible, staring out ahead of them both as her mate slept against her.

Even after seven years of bickering and frustration both Larten and Arra were a strong team and that, when the chips were down, could rely on each other throw the most obscure circumstances.

But Arra wore the trousers. Always, she wore the trousers.

**Just thought I'd post a little One Shot thingy (: **

**I was watching Brandon Flower's "Crossfire" video and, for those who haven't seen it, it's pretty much a woman saving a man which instantly made me think of Arra and Larten. I don't know about you guys but I always imagine Arra being the breadwinner, the 'man' of the relationship haha xD**

**Anyhoo!**

**If you like it, then tell me.**

**If you don't like it, then tell me too.**

**I promised someone I'd start writing a bit more Arra so hopefully this is a good start for her (:**


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